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by Devilinthebox (princegrisejoie)



Category: Death Note
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Dialogue, Established Relationship, Fighter Pilots, Gift Fic, M/M, On-Again/Off-Again Relationship, Rivalry, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-02
Packaged: 2018-05-30 19:42:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6437740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princegrisejoie/pseuds/Devilinthebox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prodigy ace pilot Light Yagami entertains desires of grandeur although he never once saved a human life. Rival pilot (and sometimes lover) L. Lawliet challenges him on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





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**Author's Note:**

> the extraordinaire khakisnorgle on tumblr requested an AU where the duo are pilots. Just so it’s clear to everyone, I avoided using technical vocabulary. An “ace” is a praised pilot in the military during war times. The “ace of aces” is the best out of all the aces, which was the extend of my knowledge on the matter.

Long ago, Light made a dream: he was granted wings. The gift was poisoned. He always ended up dying from it in his imagination. It’s been years since the paradigm shifted. To fly, is to live; Now he feels his desire to breathe crawl up his back to his neck each time they send him to sow death across the sky. At least, pilots kill far off the human sight. There’s no one up above to witness the blood.  
  
Light examines his hand lines. Still the same pattern under the white lights of the reception hall. Aren’t they supposed to contain the secret of his past, present and future? Then why do they never move? His future must look different, now that he has been crowned the most skilled pilot in the country. The aces of aces; even the title sounds bright, delightful, full of promises.  
To be an ace pilot means this: to be one of a kind, tell your stories at dinner parties. Earn new names. Government officials call Light their Prodigy, but the journalists love fairytales. To them, he is an angel, a warrior of light, a saviour.  
  
But Light knows something they don’t. He knows war in the air is deceptive; the bodies of his victims disappear in the explosion of their machines. All scatter in the sky, never to be found again. To call a saviour someone who can erase people at will? That doesn’t begin to cover it.  
  
Truth is, the world doesn’t need gods, with the pilots almost reaching the sun. The stars are weak. The universe has grown wary of the immovable forces of nature. It wants change; Light sensed it during the last battle, as the enemy and his damaged plane were sinking into the clouds. It will all change soon.  
  
Light keeps the secret. For now.  
  


  
Long evenings in the company of politicians wear him out quick. Light takes refuge in the bathroom. There he finds Lawliet, who has a talent for many things – singing (but Light never heard his songs), flying (he is his training partner from another allied country) and disrupting the course of events as Light carefully plans them.  
  
“I thought you avoided meeting with people,” said Light. “Especially these people.”  
  
Lawliet smirked. “You hate them too. Don’t protest just yet, please… You hate them, I see it. But you still wish they remembered you after the war. Hence your attitude. You have to look smart…reusable, which we – soldiers and war criminals, certainly aren’t any longer. If your strategy works out, well…you’ll be the star of post-war airshows. Congratulations, kid. They’ll applaud at your feats, rehabilitate the army that way. See? This one hasn’t gone crazy. He can still master his plane to make children smile. Do you even care if children smile?”  
  
It was all Lawliet: he threw cutting words in his slow, fatigued voice. It was frustrating to be mocked, but Light found that mess of a man intoxicating. He lets adrenaline and fear course under his skin. With a man like that, rules don’t apply. Lawliet has no expectations for him, hasn’t he? So Light can be just anyone he wants. Yet, he remained quiet, whilst in his body, in his veins, in his head, mad blood rushed and rushed.  
  
“I have no interest in performing at airshows. You look tired.”  
  
“Oh, don’t be so serious,” Lawliet said, stepping closer.  
His pointy nose marred his face in a way that made him, at least, interesting to watch. He seemed on edge. The battles they fought could be weighting on him? He smiled and whispered, sharp and quick: “Who doesn’t love an audience?”  
  
“I love to save lives. To fight for my country. To honour –“  
  
“You’re a saint. But if I want to find you again, I won’t pray. I’ll just follow the trail of widows and orphans you leave behind. You’re a killer, Light.” Then, like a quiet wish: “Open your eyes.”  
  
“We’re all killers here.”  
  
“Yes. But only you pretend to be special. See, the issue I have with you is not your lack of morality, it’s the belief you have that we are supposed to parade and be glorified for our deeds. I’m not a hero, you’re not a hero. We’re equals. You’re not special: if we lose this war, you’ll be a monster like in the books. A monster like them, like me. Is that why you devote yourself to the victory? Because if we lose, then what will become of you? What’s left to admire then, huh?”  
  
To be seen in Lawliet’s eyes was a terrifying thing. Light felt vulnerable under that piercing look. What of his glory? What of his exploits? Lawliet cared for none of it. He cared for nothing at all.  
  
“No one could do what I do. If killing to protect others is a crime, then –“  
“You wouldn’t save just anyone,” Lawliet said. His voice was full of venom. “Would you save me, if some enemy pilot menaced to cut through my airplane like a machete? Would you take a risk to save my life?”  
  
“I would,” Light promised at once. He had to find something else to say or Lawliet would kiss him again. It happened to them from time to time. They forgot the world that way. It was dangerous to get used to it, so Light decided he would drag himself out of their games.  
  
A faint “no” escaped from him; Lawliet was pulling him closer. “What now? Are you mad at me for what I just said? We’ve been through worse arguments. You don’t remember? Last January, the chandelier?”  
  
Reluctantly, Light took a step back. “We have uniforms, we’re not supposed to – Let’s behave appropriately. Please.”  
  
“Please,” Lawliet echoed bitterly. “One day, someone will expose you for the liar you are, you know? There will be nowhere to hide.” He went to the door and left without a glance for Light.  
  
Light closed his eyes, hoping to find peace. To forget about Lawliet, who was a disgrace to the army. He failed. Instead, he found they were perfectly matched. Who refuses to reach perfection?  
  
*  
  
Light began writing in a diary not for the act of writing itself, but for the feeling he got whenever he read over again the words his hand traced days or months back. That was like getting into his own head, or the head of a stranger.  
  
The thought of Lawliet kept him awake. Light had to feel his own pulse to quiet his mind. He clung to the haunting sound, the proof that he was still a living being, not the marionette devoid of hopes and dreams Lawliet expected him to become, for his pride, for his sake.  
  
Sensing his heart beating didn’t suffice. He found the words he wrote that night, and they weren’t pretty but red and red, so repulsive.  
  
“HE PLAYS ME. HE PLAYS ME. HE IS ALWAYS MOCKING ME. DOES HE THINK I WOULD EVER SAVE HIM?”

*  
  
Someone says: “your father is so proud of you”. Shivers rush down his spine and he makes them repeat. “Proud? He used that word?” It’s important. They can all tell by the ring of his voice.  
  
“You should ask Lawliet. He is the one who talked with the General.”  
  
*  
  
On the roof of the training facility, it was easy to feel observed by an audience of thousand silent stars. It made Light self-conscious, but Lawliet enjoyed their presence. He climbed up every night for them, them and the bite of the wind, cold and cruel.  
  
Lawliet immediately put a name on the careful steps disturbing his alone time.  
  
“Good evening, Light. Those who are about to die salute you.”  
  
Light favoured him with his icy smile. It could hide wonders or monsters.  
“They say you met with my father.”  
  
“I did,” Lawliet replied. “Impressive man. Admirable General.”  
  
All remained calm for a moment. Light moved closer. His decorations, medals of shiny silver, shone beneath the moonlight. In a hopeless effort to rival the stars, perhaps.  
  
Light’s breathing was a touch quicker than its usual cadence. _You want me to care, don’t you?_  
  
“So, is that all? I thought I was sabotaging your life. I thought you wanted to avoid me,” Lawliet managed, without tearing his eyes off the sky.  
  
“I never said that.”  
  
“You don’t need to voice any of your thoughts for me to catch on.”  
  
“Then you should be able to guess why I came up here. It’s cold. I’d feel safer in my bed.”  
  
_In your cage… with all your books, your deliriums about life and the secrets you will always hide from me._  
  
“You want to atone for your sins. What I said disturbed your plans. You thought of killing me. Pushing me off that rooftop.” He turned to look Light in his sorrowful eyes. “I’m lucky if you don’t yield to the temptation tonight.”  
“I have no intention to murder you. I just want to feel better.”  
  
In response, Lawliet settled a hand on the back of Light’s neck. “Save a life,” is all he says before leading Light to a goodbye kiss.  
  
*  
  
To fly, is to rule. The universe beneath you shrinks. Every distant play is performed on a scene you dominate from above. Hiding places resemble all the rest of the landscapes, unique colours blur together in a grand painting and there are no humans anymore, only identical specks of dust.  
  
To save a life, when you are given the power of winged-gods, seems impossible.  
  
The battle has just begun but the enemy’s strategy is easy to divine. They sent their best pilot to chase after Lawliet, who doesn’t try to escape. _Why doesn’t he take cover in the clouds?_  
  
_Why –_  
  
Horrified, Light understands. There is nothing Lawliet won’t do to be right. He would take a risk to win a game he judges worth his time.  
  
_Does it mean he trusts me or that he has a death wish?_  
  
His kiss had felt final, one last mockery maybe? In one second, it will effectively be so. Light’s hands shake like they did that day. He hesitates one shameful moment he will eventually erase from history. His plane glides as to ensure perfect aim.  
  
He shoots. He saves a life. He saves a life he values for all the ones he deemed irrelevant.  
  
Somehow, true heroism slide away from his grasp; even he cannot mask the truth of it. Acts of heroism usually cover for some fragile human motive. He suddenly doesn’t want to see Lawliet’s funeral, he doesn’t want to be left alone killing in a world where no one is allowed to remain innocent.  
  
He doesn’t want to say: “he looked quite complex, made for me, fitted for me. I held his fate in my hands, but I let him die. I heard he could sing, but I had to let him die.”  
  
It requires ideals to destroy humanity. To save a life, though, all it takes is one selfish wish for company.


End file.
